


let it rain (let it pour)

by colonel_bastard



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: They’ve turned the couch to face the window so they can sit together and watch the rain.





	let it rain (let it pour)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop thinking about the fact that Tadashi is a genuinely pure and good person while Callaghan is literally a ticking timebomb of rage and despair.
> 
> Title is taken from [this OK GO song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0W7Cgv09fgQ)

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They’ve turned the couch to face the window so they can sit together and watch the rain. Tadashi has his head on Callaghan’s chest and Callaghan’s arm around his shoulders and honestly he could stay like this forever. Outside the weather is cold and grey, the windowpane streaked with silver, the impact of every individual raindrop overlapping until it becomes a pleasant hum. From the vantagepoint of Callaghan’s eleventh-floor apartment, Tadashi can see up and down the rain-slicked streets of San Fransokyo. 

The view is smudged by the water running down the glass. Even so, he can still distinguish the occasional pair of headlights moving along the roads, slow and cautious. Each time he does, he sends all of his thoughts and wishes towards them, willing them to get home safe. At first he doesn’t mind. It’s even kind of nice, watching over those cars like a guardian angel. After a while, however, the sadness starts to creep up on him. 

His first instinct is to hide it. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. The people in his life expect him to be always smiling, always encouraging, always comforting. It takes him a moment to remember that with Callaghan, he doesn’t have to be any of that. With Callaghan, Tadashi is allowed to be the one who needs comfort. 

It takes a conscious effort, but finally he manages to take a deep breath and speak his sorrow into existence. 

“It was raining like this,” he says. “When my parents died.” 

Callaghan sucks in a sharp inhale but says nothing. He doesn’t want to interrupt. Nevertheless, he tightens his grip around Tadashi’s shoulders, fierce and protective, already prepared to defend him against any further grief. Tadashi feels safe enough to continue. 

“They were driving home from dinner. Date night. They did it once a month. Hiro and I were with Aunt Cass.” 

Another pair of headlights glides by in the fog down below. Tadashi tracks them with his eyes, bracing himself for the sudden jolt, the lights pinwheeling out of control. It never comes. They make it home safe.

“The other car slid through a red light. Just a driver, no passengers. Dad tried to brake, but they hydroplaned, too.” Tadashi sighs. “Two-car collision. Three casualties.”

And the funny thing is, it actually helps to say it out loud. It’s like draining an infection; the pressure is relieved, and the healing can continue. Tadashi doesn’t want to let it become a secret. It doesn’t need to be. It’s a thing that happened, and it’s a part of him, and sometimes he thinks about it when the weather is grey and gloomy. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. It just makes him sad. 

Still holding him close, Callaghan turns his head to press a kiss into Tadashi’s hair. With his lips against Tadashi’s skin, he murmurs, “Do you want to move the couch back? We don’t have to stay at the window.” 

Tadashi nuzzles his face against Callaghan’s chest, content. “No, that’s all right. I don’t blame the rain.” 

He gazes out through the silver-streaked glass, at the beautiful smudges of color and light, the city all speckled with neon signs. When he looks up he can see the blinking of the turbine blimps, their whimsical fish designs reduced to blurry shadows, drifting through the heavy clouds like dark water. San Fransokyo really is lovely when it rains.

Then Callaghan breaks the silence.

“Do you blame the driver of the other car?”

For a second there, Tadashi is actually confused. He hadn’t realized that Callaghan was still dwelling on the subject. 

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head. “Both cars hydroplaned. Under those road conditions, it could have happened to anybody.” 

Callaghan gets very quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is soft enough that Tadashi almost doesn’t hear the strain. 

“Do you… do you blame your parents?” Callaghan swallows hard, like his throat has gone tight. “For taking the risk?”

He sounds so forlorn, so lost. One of his hands is still clasped over Tadashi’s shoulder, but the other is resting in his lap— that’s the hand that Tadashi reaches over and takes into his own, lacing their fingers together until they’re palm to palm, heartbeat to heartbeat. 

“I don’t blame anybody,” he says. “Blame won’t change anything.” 

He looks out over the city that he loves, all wrapped up in that grey, gloomy blanket. It would be so easy to be angry— but instead Tadashi smiles, his head tucked against Callaghan’s shoulder. 

“Besides,” he says. “I’d rather just enjoy the rain.”

Callaghan exhales, his chin bowed down to his chest, his thumb rubbing wistfully against the back of Tadashi’s hand. His next words come out in a hoarse whisper. 

“You’re a better man than I am.” 

Now it’s Tadashi’s turn to tighten his grip, clutching at Callaghan’s hand like he’s afraid Callaghan is going to be pulled away from him, dragged off into the distance by whatever it is that makes him sound so far away already. When Callaghan fails to respond, Tadashi shifts his weight and turns so he can look up at his face. Callaghan is staring out the window, his gaze unfocused, unseeing. Tadashi gives his hand another emphatic squeeze. 

“You’re a good man, Robert.”

Callaghan looks down at him. He has eyes like an open sky. Some days— most days— there’s not a cloud in sight. There’s just an endless blue, full of promise and possibility. Other days are overcast and grim, that blue turned dark by doubt or, worse, disappointment. And some days— the bad days— Tadashi sees the storm. He sees it now. He feels it, like a rumble on the horizon, a prickling in his skin like the split-second before lightning strikes. 

And then it’s gone. Callaghan closes his eyes and brings Tadashi’s hand to his lips, giving it a gentle, devoted kiss. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “It’s kind of you to say so.” 

Tadashi wants to say, _I mean it._ He wants to say, _I know you’re good._ He wants to say a thousand different things, but each one seems more simple and naive than the last. And before he can say anything at all, Callaghan disentangles himself and stands up, leaving Tadashi behind. 

“I think I’ll make some tea,” he says. “Would you like some?”

Tadashi nods his assent, and then Callaghan is gone. Tadashi is alone on the couch, staring out the window at the city down below. He sees a pair of headlights moving through the gloom and he holds on to them with his eyes, cocooning them in his thoughts, willing them to get home safe. He knows, from a purely scientific standpoint, that it’s a useless endeavor. But maybe, just maybe, Tadashi might be able to help. 

 

 

_______end.


End file.
